In Good Faith
by Stephane Richer
Summary: Some members of the Touou Academy basketball club are a bit surprised by the appointment of Wakamatsu Kousuke to the captaincy.


In Good Faith

* * *

Some members of the Touou Academy basketball club are a bit surprised by the appointment of Wakamatsu Kousuke to the captaincy. Why should they be surprised, though, when he is the only second-year starter? No one else would be taken seriously, which isn't to say they all take Wakamatsu completely seriously, but a captain who doesn't start would be just idiotic. Although, they all know Wakamatsu would give up his spot in an instant if there was a centre who was better than him on the team. Coach wouldn't let him start if that were the case, and he would practice until he dropped to get better. So maybe that is the kind of captain, one who devotes himself completely to making sure the team is better by starting with himself—who may be the only one he can control or convince of anything. After all, they really aren't going to listen to him.

They don't, at all. He keeps yelling at people to work harder and they all shrug because it's the offseason and shouldn't they be keeping things simpler? Shouldn't they give themselves a rest? But neither their coach nor their manager intervenes. They just sit on the sidelines and watch. It's kind of creepy. The first years decide amongst themselves that it's even creepier than some of the shit Imayoshi pulled, which isn't to say they don't look behind them as they're saying it because Imayoshi might decide that this is the perfect moment to stroll up and smile that creepy smile of his, but of course he's not there.

It's Honda who decides to go up to the coach and asks what exactly they should be doing.

"Listen to your captain," he replies, noting something on the clipboard he's carrying but looking somewhere else entirely.

Talking back will be useless, so Honda goes back to the group and says, "We're apparently supposed to listen to Wakamatsu."

"It's hard to listen when he screams so much," mutters Inoue.

Sometimes, it can be grating and you want to cover your ears. But eventually you get used to it, and they all have with time. And hidden in the screaming about how idiotic you are will be some actual, useful advice.

At least, that's what Sakurai deduces. The other guys are all standing in the corner (which is strange because he thought they might want to start next year, but that's neither here nor there, and also if they're complaining about Wakamatsu yelling at them that's an easy—no, surefire—way to get him mad) and still discussing what to actually do because Wakamatsu doesn't give them very many specific drills to do (and neither do the coach and manager, still just standing there so creepily).

"I'm sorry…" he begins, and all heads swivel to face him. Sakurai gulps and then continues. "But Wakamatsu-sempai actually did tell me that my angle was off on this one shot, and…I changed the angle and he was right." He pauses. "I'm sorry," he adds, probably apologizing for shooting from a bad angle in the first place. Or maybe just because he's Sakurai.

While it has seemed like Wakamatsu has been simply berating the rest of the team, could he have been giving them advice? Maybe it's because Sakurai is already a starter…but, still, any one of them could be starters next year, right?

Honda picks up a basketball and starts dribbling, runs toward the basket, and makes a terrible attempt at a basket. To be fair, he's focusing more on footwork. He runs over to grab the rebound where it lands, at an awkward angle, and picks it up, dribbling again and focusing on the basket as his target even as he runs toward it, picks it up and shoots again, and this time nothing but net.

"OI!" Wakamatsu shouts, glaring at him. He begins to go onto one of his tirades, and Honda forces himself to listen. It's the usual insults but they're not just generic or irrelevant jabs at his family or his general intelligence. They're actually about his awareness and ball-handling and, yes, the damn footwork. "…and your hands are awkward when you dribble! Make it smoother!"

Easier said than done, but hey, it's a start. He notices the others are joining him, Sakurai, and the second-years on the court, and soon they're all back in the swing of things. It's like a weird ripple effect. What the hell? It's so weird, but it's a relief. His doubts that they would be competitive next year with this guy as captain are lessening. They're still there, but they're much lower and less looming than they had been.

"…interesting," the coach says to the manager.

Momoi smiles. "The only way they can have faith in their captain is by giving it to him of their own accord."

"True enough," Harasawa replies. After all, most of the captains he's picked have been natural leaders who command respect with their presence, intellect, and skills. Wakamatsu's no idiot, but he seems like one, even to those who play with him. It takes a lot to see through all of that yelling. Harasawa was surprised when Imayoshi said there was no way anyone other than Wakamatsu could be captain, but he sees it now. His intensity and spirit are actually quite a refreshing change from the run of subtle captains he's had recently.

After all, when Wakamatsu's not yelling at the other players he's yelling with them, encouraging them…even when it's disguised as anger ("Work harder, damn it!") he just wants them all to live up to their potential and help the team. Not that Imayoshi hadn't wanted that; not that the captain before him hadn't. He just wants it in a different way.

There's nothing wrong with that.


End file.
